


Silent Night

by blanketed_in_stars



Series: 12 Days of Shipmas [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dead Harry, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-06 00:34:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5395994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blanketed_in_stars/pseuds/blanketed_in_stars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Why are you up?” she asks, smiling. “Father Christmas hasn’t come yet.”</p><p>“Father Christmas is only an Umgubular Slashkilter dressed in furs,” Luna says.</p><p>Ginny thinks that her voice sounds different, less dreamy, and then as she steps closer, she sees it: Luna is crying. Tear tracks glisten on her cheeks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silent Night

Warm as she is, it takes Ginny a moment to notice that she’s alone. It’s the silence that gives it away—Luna snores. And sure enough, when she sticks one arm out of the blankets, the other side of the bed is empty.

She gets up, hugging the innermost blanket around herself like a cloak, and pads down the hall. The lights of the Christmas tree cast a gentle glow over the whole flat, charmed to dim as the night goes on. It’s so ethereal that she jumps a little when she finally sees Luna leaning against the wall, staring at the tree.

“Why are you up?” she asks, smiling. “Father Christmas hasn’t come yet.”

“Father Christmas is only an Umgubular Slashkilter dressed in furs,” Luna says.

Ginny thinks that her voice sounds different, less dreamy, and then as she steps closer, she sees it: Luna is crying. Tear tracks glisten on her cheeks. “What is it?” Ginny asks, putting an arm around her shoulders.

Luna sniffs. “Just thinking,” she murmurs.

“Did you have a nightmare?”

It’s a mark of her pain that Luna doesn’t remind her that nightmares are really bad-tempered wrackspurts, and only nods. She doesn’t elaborate, but Ginny can guess. Most of Luna’s bad dreams are of Malfoy Manor, or the grave at Shell Cottage, or, sometimes, her father in Azkaban. In their three years sharing the flat, though, Ginny has never seen her cry about them.

“I’ll make a pot of tea,” Ginny says, “and you’ll feel better. Mum swears by it.”

“No, thanks,” Luna replies, “but cocoa would be nice.”

So Ginny heats the milk and adds chocolate powder, bought from the Muggle supermarket after a disastrous attempt to use the magically enriched kind. She gives one mug to Luna and keeps the other for herself, and they sit at the foot of the wall, bathed in the warm light.

Several minutes pass, both of them drinking slowly, leaning close where their bodies press together and savoring the sweetness of the moment. Then Luna tilts her head sideways to rest on Ginny’s shoulder. “I can’t believe we’re here.”

Ginny doesn’t turn, not wanting to make Luna move. “You pay half the rent. You’d better believe it.”

“No,” Luna says, “I can’t believe we’ve survived—that we made it out alive.”

“Oh.” Although the war ended four years ago, Ginny doesn’t always really believe it, either. She still carries a pack of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder in her bag. Worse than the fear is the grief, and she knows Luna feels that, too—for Tonks and Remus, for Fred, and especially for Harry. She swallows. She wants to agree, because their survival is ridiculous, but she can’t speak.

Luna presses a kiss to Ginny’s cheek and whispers, “It’ll be all right.”

Now Ginny does turn, suddenly desperate, and asks, “How can you know that?” She can still see the tears on Luna’s cheeks.

Luna smiles, her eyes sparkling like stars. “Because you’re still here with me.”


End file.
